


Connect-the-Dots

by stardustandswimmingpools



Series: hamilton prompt fills [8]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boyfriends, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Established Relationship, Freckles, Intoxication, M/M, Sharpie, Writing on Skin, connect-the-dot with sharpie, hercusneeze, it's not angst/fluff because it's not upsetting it's just cute, john gets mad but it's super domestic, mention of bad techno music, mulligan is a tired dad, not married just stupidly in love sorrynotsorry, only briefly and it's goofy tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:24:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8312170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandswimmingpools/pseuds/stardustandswimmingpools
Summary: Alex plays Connect the Dots with the freckles on John’s face while he's asleep, but Alex is a stupid drunk and he uses a Sharpie.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeasTakingOver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeasTakingOver/gifts).



> HILARITY ENSUES  
> anyway, hi i'm back yet again! with another! prompt! from! @teastakingover ! those prompts aint gonna write themselves amirite tho  
> 1) someone asked me to write more drunk hamilton so here's a taste because i really want to but this is a very small amount so hopefully that'll tide you over until i can make a better funnier thing  
> 2) i would just like to reiterate that you shouldn't try and connect people's freckles especially people with as many as anthony ramos/john laurens because. it. it just. it won't work.  
> 3) but if you do, do NOT use sharpie  
> 4) john gets mad and snaps at alex but it's a very domestic argument so stay safe but i don't think this should be a trigger to anyone <3  
> 5) hercules mulligan is a tired dad and i want the whole world to know it  
> 6) i like to think when John goes to work at his mysterious job at his mysterious office that i haven't decided on yet, he and his mystery coworkers just gossip and chat about their lives so everyone knows what a Disaster™ John's boyfriend Alexander is  
> 7) please enjoy!

 

John is in a deep slumber when Alex comes home from the bar, highly intoxicated. Hercules, who was the designated driver (as always), has his arm looped around Alex’s waist and he takes Alex’s key and unlocks the door to his apartment.

Alex stumbles inside, grinning widely. “Thanks, Hercusneeze,” he says, rather loudly, then breaks down into a fit of giggles.

“Shh.” Hercules puts a finger to his mouth. “John is asleep, Alex.”

Alex nods solemnly and stage-whispers, “Thanks, Hercusneeze.” He stifles another giggle.

Hercules sighs. Alexander Hamilton drunk is only funny in short doses, like internet challenges or bad techno music.

“Are you gonna be okay?” he asks. Alex nods again, looking Hercules in the eyes.

“Okay, I’m gonna leave now. Go to bed,” he adds, and slips out, closing the door behind him.

Alex watches him go and then dutifully goes into his bedroom, as silently as he can (he tiptoes) prepared to fall asleep. The alcohol is taking its toll on him, and in addition to being drunk off his ass, he’s now feeling loopy from sleepiness.

He sees John, tucked under the covers with only his head poking out, his hair splayed out messily on the pillow, and stops to admire his boyfriend’s freckles. His eyes flicker to the side table.

There’s a black sharpie. No idea has ever seemed better.

Alex knows John is a deep sleeper, and he grabs the sharpie and pulls the cap off with a _pop_ , then hovers it for a moment over John’s face until he zeroes in on a freckle just above his left eyebrow.

He puts the sharpie down and traces that freckle to another one next to his ear, and then one in the middle of his cheek, and one on the bridge of his nose. On and on, Alex traces the marker lightly across John’s entire face, watching in delight as it leaves a black trail of random shapes and figures crisscrossing each other.

In a daze he doodles for five minutes. Then John stirs, his blanket rising and falling as he heaves a sigh, and Alex stills and stays statuesque for a full minute before deeming it safe to move.

He puts the cap back on the sharpie, too paranoid that John will awaken now. Before he clambers into bed he steps back to marvel at his handiwork: it pleases him how the inky black of the sharpie connects John’s freckles like a choppy river, and he smiles to himself, satisfied.

Then he trips over his feet as he falls into bed, tugging on the string of the lamp to extinguish the light, and is asleep in seconds.

* * *

 

In the Hamilton-Laurens apartment, as per Alex’s wishes, there is an arrangement.

John always wakes up first, at around six, makes breakfast (which can vary between the mornings, but is always delicious) and wakes Alex at six-thirty. This is in part because John likes the peace of the morning without Alex’s frantic bustling; in part because Alex likes to sleep in (and John wants him to sleep more); and in part because Alex gets ready for work much faster than John.

John’s alarm goes off at six, and his eyes fly open, his hand already slamming the _off_ button before he can fully process that he’s awake.

He rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms, pushing the sleep out of them in an attempt to wake himself up. When his hands come away from his face, he blinks a couple of times, but he’s not imagining the black...something on his palms.

Slowly he turns his head to his pillow. Black ink is smudged all over the pillowcase, and even a little bit on his arm.

He grits his teeth, slides out of bed, and hustles into the bathroom.

In the mirror he sees his own face, with smudged ink covering much of it, and he can trace the line across some of his more prominent freckles.

_Alexander motherfucking Hamilton._

He stomps into their bedroom: forget the arrangement, this is a priority. He shakes Alex (maybe more aggressively than he needs to) and Alex groggily opens his eyes, wincing visibly.

“Ah, John, I have an awful h — what is on your face?”

“Exactly — my — question,” John snaps.

Alex pushes himself up into a sitting position. His clothes are rumpled because they’re the same ones he wore the day before, and he unconsciously smoothes out the fabric with one hand as the other goes up to his forehead. “Please be quieter, I have a terrible hangover,” he mumbles, and squints at John’s face. The black ink is coming into focus in his sleep-ridden eyes, and with a drop in his gut like an anvil, he remembers.

“Oh, shit,” he says.

“Shit indeed,” John agrees, humorlessly. “How drunk were you?”

“I...I had, like, eleven beers,” Alex says sheepishly. “I thought my tolerance was higher.”

“Well clearly you were _mistaken_ ,” John hisses. “What am I supposed to do now? I can’t go to work with my face covered in marker.”

“Uh…” Alex looks guiltily at John, and says, “Not to add insult to injury, but it’s actually… it’s actually sharpie.”

John throws his hands up, too frustrated for words, and paces the room.

“Alexander Hamilton, you are a complete idiot,” he says.

“I know, I know,” Alex says quickly, “I know, I’m sorry. Let me see if I can wash it off. If not, call into work and say I got you into a mess you need to sort out. I take full responsibility and I am very sorry, I really am.” He hops out of bed, staggers a moment as the blood rushes to his head, then grabs John’s hand and drags him into the bathroom.

“Oh, wow, it’s even clearer in this light,” Alex says, cringing. “Yeah, that’s bad. Wow.”

“You’re an idiot,” John says, shaking his head and scoffing. “What in God’s name compelled you to draw all over my face? With _sharpie_?”

As Alex soaks a washcloth in cold water (and starts when it seeps onto his hand), he says, “Your freckles. To be fair, I’ve wanted to try and connect them since we met.”

“To be _fair_?”

“Poor word choice, that’s on me,” Alex amends hurriedly. “Anyway, you asked why I did it, that’s why. I wanted to play connect-the-dots with your freckles. Can you blame me?”

“ _Yes!_ ” John barks.

“Again, poor choice of words.” Alex holds up the washcloth and says, “Brace yourself, it’s cold.”

He feels John tense as he puts the washcloth to his boyfriend’s face and scrubs at the sharpie. It fades but doesn’t vanish. John, watching in the mirror, has resigned to be accepting of the situation at hand and is using his fingers to comb through his messy hair while Alex cleans his face.

“Unbelievable,” he says incredulously. “You are unbelievable, Alexander Hamilton.”

“I try.” John’s left cheek now has faint lines on it, hardly visible from afar, and Alex moves on to the right cheek and tries to use the rest of his fingers to get John’s forehead. The washcloth falls over John’s eyes.

They stand in silence, and every so often John scoffs again. His bad mood seems to be diminishing, and Alex is grateful.

At last the rest of the sharpie is as faded as Alex can get it, and John examines himself in the mirror, then grudgingly grumbles, “It’ll have to do.”

“Sorry, babe,” Alex says again. He really does sound sorry. John sighs deeply.

“It’s fine, Alex. I still love you.” He dips his head and kisses Alex, just to remind him, and then, as Alex’s cheeks turn a light pink color, he adds, “But if you ever do this again so help me god you better watch your back.”

Alex bobs his head overly quickly. “Got it. Love you too.”

* * *

 

When John gets to work that day a few co-workers ask him what happened to his face.

Sighing resignedly, he says, “My boyfriend tries to play connect-the-dot with my freckles.”

It’s surprising how many people admit that their boyfriends have done the same thing.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! I am on tumblr @justcuzfandoms or @vivilevone (someday i will learn to put in links and do it but for now just make the effort) AAAAAND i did just make a blog called @brooklyn-hamilton where i apply b99 quotes to the characters of hamilton because I LIKE TO HAVE FUN!! so i'll see you around and thanks again! have a great day!!


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